


Pride of Iwatobi

by ellerean



Category: Free!
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-04
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-07-20 03:16:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7388374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellerean/pseuds/ellerean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one had heard of Iwatobi before it became home of the two fastest swimmers in the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pride of Iwatobi

**Author's Note:**

> I suppose technically this would follow Fluid Like Water, just because I tend to write everything in the same 'verse. But it's completely independent.

Iwatobi had never been a tourist destination, not like other small villages in Japan. Besides the ocean, there was nothing to _do_ there, because even the ocean could be seen from other, _larger_ towns along the coastline. There was no shortage of fishing villages in Japan, with better options for local fare and entertainment for out-of-towners.

But it wasn’t entertainment they sought pulling into the station, weighed down with travel packs and wearing sun hats to protect their skin. They stepped onto the platform at Iwatobi Station with their maps and notes, as if there could be any doubt they were in the correct place—the larger-than-life advertisement greeted them when the train’s doors opened, the permanent fixture that featured Iwatobi’s own homegrown Olympic swimmers.

The tourism office offered maps and guided tours; stacks of glossy, signed photographs were available for six hundred yen apiece. Guests were greeted by cardboard variants of Matsuoka Rin and Nanase Haruka, standing just inside the office’s doors, their images stamped with gold medals around their necks. On the weekends, there were lines to take photos with the life-size cutouts, men and women propping a hand around a thin, cardboard neck and flashing a peace sign.

Maps did not offer the exact location of their homes, but that didn’t stop visitors from trying. They would rent bikes or go on foot to take the suggested loop, trekking from the train station to the swim club to the elementary school. They would visit the cherry blossom tree where they’d first declared to swim together. They would wait at the swim club for a guided tour by their childhood instructor. They would climb the steps to the overlook, where they could see the whole of Iwatobi and visit the grave of Matsuoka’s father. The stone was buried in flowers, in notecards, and in prayers for his son. It was rumored that Matsuoka Ohatsu would climb the hill each night to clear away the dead flowers, to read the notes then tuck them back beneath her husband’s name. But she was a ghost, never spotted, at least not by the visitors.

As much was known of Nanase’s parents as the private life of their son, seldom visiting their hometown in their own world travels. But they could be seen in Iwatobi proper during their off-time, if one knew where to look, at the grocer or the fish market or walking along the beach at sundown. Unaware visitors would squint in the darkness, consider the man who resembled the similarly dark-haired swimmer, then shake their heads and not inquire.

The beach was crowded, even in the cold months, the unceasing _click_ of cameras capturing every possible angle either one of the Olympians would have ever seen. They removed their socks and shoes to feel the sand on bared feet; they rolled up their pants to wade into the water to their ankles. Lifeguards worked extended hours, staying until the sun disappeared into the ocean, waiting until the last of the visitors packed their bags to return to wherever they spent the night. The two local hotels were often booked, the overflow traveling back to Tottori before the final train out of town.

It wasn’t uncommon for lifeguards to wander the beach on their time off, or after hours, policing the shore for stray wanderers. _The beach is dangerous at night_ , they’d say to late-night visitors. _The weather is unpredictable_. The water was dark, even on clear nights. But the lifeguards would wait and watch unseen, dreaming of their own tickets out of the small fishing village they’d planted their roots in.

The swim club itself seemed to never close, offering tours in the hours after formal classes concluded. Sasabe lead them himself, but knew the visitors came only to see evidence of his prize students—their photos were behind a glass display, ranging from elementary to high school, accompanied by a small collection of winner’s medals. _They won’t give me the Olympic ones_ , he’d say with a laugh. Instead he’d show off the child-sized medals he’d presented to them himself decades prior, their ribbons faded and worn with age. The accompanying child-size trophy was permanently scarred with the residue of being buried beneath the earth. Questions weren’t asked—anyone visiting Iwatobi had read the articles and biographies, had heard Matsuoka’s tales of childhood promises and ultimate victory.

But Iwatobi Swim Club wasn’t the only place to share its pride—the fish market was an official sponsor, displaying a framed photograph of the owner with their local heroes outside the shop. Matsuoka’s face greeted travelers at the Samezuka Academy bus stop, a specially-arranged photoshoot of him in school colors wearing an Olympic gold medal. _Where winners are born_ , it read, beneath his trademark smile. And each student of Iwatobi High School was scrutinized under the piercing stare of Nanase, his framed photograph outside the administration office, where he held a bouquet of flowers and held up his own gold medal to the blinding flashes of photographers.

The tourism began to settle after the Olympics concluded; only the most devoted continued to journey to Iwatobi’s coast. These were the ones who would stay longer, experiencing the simple life of a fishing town and conversing with the locals. Some would pay the hourly rate for open swim at the Iwatobi Swim Club, beneath the aura of victors as they swam in the same pool. But most remained near the beach, looking out at the water the same way they would have, imagining they stood in the same location in those few days before flying off to their next competition. _The beach is dangerous at night_ , the lifeguards repeated, a droning mantra.

No one would have noticed the late-night visitors if that one lifeguard hadn’t left her phone on the chair. And she wouldn’t have seen them at all, if it weren’t for the clarity of the stars, the crescent moon offering little light across the water.

“Excuse me,” she called, “you shouldn’t be in the ocean at night.”

The two turned at once, and her gasp echoed over the stillness of the shore. She clapped a hand over her mouth, too late to silence it, but already the smile had spread across Matusoka’s face.

It should have been obvious, she’d think later. How they wore only fitted swimsuits, nothing on top, their figures trim and muscular. How one stood with a hand on his hip, the other with arms hanging loosely at his sides, no travel bag or camera in sight. It was their certainty that should’ve given them away, a sense of belonging, not of speculation and curiosity.

Nanase turned back to the water. “We’ll be fine.”

“Thanks for keeping Iwatobi safe!” Matsuoka called out, enthusiastically waving.

They disturbed the water with their erratic splashing, running out into the middle of the ocean. It was a wonder that Matsuoka’s laugh didn’t wake the whole of Iwatobi, magnified by the water’s vast stillness. Nanase dived when it became deep enough to, although she’d think it was still too shallow. When he surfaced he lay face-up in the water, arms and legs fanned out around him. Matsuoka was little more than a head on the water, submerged to the neck, as he pushed wet hair off his forehead.

Their faces were plastered on walls at the train station, and sold for six hundred yen at the tourist office. Their images welcomed visitors to the academy, and to the fish market, and to the swim club. _Fastest swimmers in the world_ , she thought, as they began to race freestyle across the tide.

She climbed back up onto the lifeguard’s chair. She texted her father to say she would be home late. She listened to the splashing of the disrupted water, and the indecipherable arguing past the breaking waves. The water shot up in an arc, one splashing the other, and then retaliation. She tucked her cell phone into the water bottle holder, pulled her hair back into a ponytail, and watched over the pride of their small fishing village.

**Author's Note:**

> ([Here](http://ellereanwrites.tumblr.com/post/146904320743) on tumblr.)


End file.
